Boxing
by Tivaau
Summary: Just a short drabble about Tony and Ziva boxing. This was a prompt from the lovely natashaaa-bartonss on Tumblr, and a lot of people liked it so I though I'd post it here. Rated 'T' because I'm paranoid.


**A/N: **This was a prompt (boxing) on Tumblr from **natashaaa-bartonss** and I just decided to post it up here. It was quick and I haven't edited it, but I feel like I owe you guys something since I haven't updated "The Hole in the Heart" or "Movie Night Out". Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little drabble that has nothing to do with the finale, because quite frankly, I'm sick of Tiva waking up in the elevator or in hospital right now.

Boxing

The sweat stung his eyes, but that didn't matter. Not now. He was too involved in destroying the bag in front of him to care about anything. His bare knuckles smacking against the firmness of the synthetic weave that encased the grains was all that could be heard. Well, that and the aggressive grunts he was allowing to escape from his mouth.

He wasn't sure how long he had been down here for, and now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure why. But he knew that it had been a while seeing as his grey 'Ohio State' shirt was almost soaked through.

"Tony."

Her voice was enough to stop him from doing anything. He stepped back, lowered his hands and faced her, swiping the droplets of sweat from his forehead.

"Lean into the bag more." She began towards him, dropping her bag at the door. The soft pad of her bare feet echoed through the room.

"What?"

"You are standing too straight. When you punch, you should lean into it. It gives you more force."

She was next to him in a black tank-top and yoga pants offering him a towel.

"Thanks." He dabbed his face and neck then threw the towel behind them.

"Now show me." She looked from his eyes to the bag and back.

He took that as his cue to step to the bag and raise his fists. One deep breath, then the slap of his fist cracked the air around them. And again.

"Tony," she stepped behind him and placed her hand on his damp back to stop him "control. Don't just swing wildly." She moved her hands to his hips, turning them so they were slightly twisted. Then she slid them up to his shoulders to correct his posture.

"Again." She stepped back and watched him.

He steadied himself with another breath and swung with his left arm, this time a clear 'crack' filled the room instead of his usual dull 'slap'. Feeling confident with himself, he swung again. Every sharp 'crack' building his confidence.

"Good, now try me." His brows furrowed as he lowered his fists.

"You want me to fight you, Ziva?"

"Yes." Her tone was certain.

"Why?" He looked intently at her.

"So I can see your technique."

"Sure." A smirk played on his lips as he strode over to the black mat at the opposite side of the room.

"Okay, you throw the first punch." She raised her hands to her face, ready for his swing.

"Zi, I don't want to punch y-"

"Tony, don't worry about me. I want you to try and punch me."

"Try? As in I may not succeed?" The smirk resurfaced as he took a step closer, his hands still at his side.

"Exactly. Now go." She adjusted her stance.

"Alright, Miss David." He raised his hands and breathed in once again. He scanned her body looking for her weakest part. Stomach, he decided.

He met her gaze and inched towards her slowly, trying not to give away his first move. They were within a metre of each other before Tony decided to make his move.

Ziva saw his eyes dart to her abdomen as he began to pull back his right arm. She shifted her body away from him, grabbing his hand as it grazed past her side. She spun so her back was to him, his right arm now pulled over her right shoulder. She used his momentum to pull him up and throw him over her shoulder onto the mat. The quietness of the room was interrupted by the solid 'thud' of Tony being flung into the mat.

As soon as he landed, Ziva was sitting on his stomach. She leant over his and pinned his arms above his head, straddling his abdomen to keep her balance.

"You missed." Their faces were mere inches apart. As she spoke, Tony could feel her warm breath glide over his chin.

"I gathered that." He watched as her gaze flickered from his eyes to his chin and chest. He knew that look, and he knew that she shouldn't be looking at him like that. Not that he didn't want her to. Because God did he want her. The loose curl that had escaped the bundle of dark waves behind her head, and her sweet eyes that stared down at him. And her lips, oh those precious, inviting lips. She was beautiful, and he would have been out of his mind to deny what she was about to do.

The corner of his mouth turned up a fraction as she bowed her head down, brushing her soft, lustrous lips over his. Her grip on his wrists weakened as he deepened the kiss, his warm breath mixing with hers. She moved her hand up to his palm as the other ran through his hair. He closed his hand, squeezing her fingers gently between his.


End file.
